Coming of Winter

by Tom Threadgill

  Jeremy moved toward the colonel, stopping inches away. “I lost everything once. I won’t let it happen again.”

  Maggie grabbed his arm and eased him backward. “Let’s get to work, Jeremy. We’ll deal with this vermin later.”

  Cronfeld laughed. “Really, there’s no need for name-calling, is there? I truly hope you find the person who killed your friend. And when you do, we’ll talk. Good day to you both.”

  The couple watched until the colonel was out of their sight.

  “Now then,” Jeremy said. “I’m not sure I know the story about your ex. Something about your anger and his x-rays?”

  She wrapped her arm around his. “Self-defense.”

  “I’m going to guess it only happened once.”

  “My ex is many things, but stupid isn’t one of them. He’s a fast learner. Slow healer, though. Had to sign the divorce papers with his left hand.”

  He kissed the top of her head. “Remind me to stay on your good side.”

  She squeezed his arm. “Not too worried about that. Still, I’m pretty sure I could take you if I needed to.”

  He chuckled and poked her side. “Yeah, I am too.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE

  Jeremy drove past the parking area and pulled next to the Miller house. The sun shone low in the sky and bounced off the light frost covering the brown lawn. Smoky whispers of steam drifted from the ground and faded to oblivion. He opened his laptop and pulled up the satellite image of the farm to orient himself, then stepped outside.

  He slammed his car door, hoping to get the attention of anyone around. These days, being a stranger on private property could get you killed. A greeting echoed from somewhere behind the house, and Jeremy zipped up his black windbreaker before heading that way.

  Mason Miller stood near a woodpile, tossing a few pieces into a wheelbarrow. “Mornin’. Just got to get the fireplace going and then I’ll be ready. Looks like it’s gonna be a warm day, but got to get the chill out of the house. Keep the wife happy. Get you some coffee?”

  “No thanks. Already hit my limit for the day. Can I give you a hand with that?”

  “Thanks, but I’ve got it. The boys were supposed to take care of this before school today, but that didn’t happen. I imagine we’ll be having a discussion about their chores when they get home.”

  “Got to raise them right.”

  Mason paused and stared at the FBI agent. “That’s true. You do. The preacher says to train them up in the way they should go, and when they get old, they won’t depart from it.”

  Maybe, but he’d seen plenty of kids deviate from their upbringing, much to the chagrin of their parents. He waited as Miller toted the firewood inside and quickly returned.

  “Ready?” Mason asked.

  “Yes, sir. If you could just show me what you showed Officer Obion, I’ll be out of your way as soon as I can. I know you’ve got a busy day ahead.”

  Mason chuckled. “I’m three hours into the day. Slept in this morning, but don’t tell nobody. Last Friday before Halloween, they’ll be swarming all over this place today, especially once the sun sets. Be lucky to survive the night.”

  “Pays the bills though, right?”

  “Eh, it helps. By the time you back out all our costs, we’re sure not getting rich. But folks like coming out here, and we enjoy putting it together for everyone. That’s good enough.”

  They continued in silence until arriving at the maze. Jeremy used his phone to snap a few pictures of the area before motioning for Mason to lead the way.

  “Your buddy asked how we set this all up,” the farmer said. “Double planted, crisscrossed. Get the plans off the Internet. Not too hard after the first time, and we keep making it bigger. Decided to do a clown’s face this year. Next Halloween, who knows?”

  Jeremy walked on without responding. Occasionally, he’d stop to take a picture of the paths, cornstalks, or decorations. Nothing.

  Mason removed his ball cap and ran the back of his arm across his forehead. “Warming up.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  They turned a corner in the path, and Jeremy slowed to study the decoration. A skeleton, definitely one from Troy’s photos based on the attire. Jacket, khakis, pipe. Why the interest in it?

  “Lanny’s work area is just up here a little ways,” Mason said.

  Jeremy moved closer to the skeleton. “Give me a minute.”

  “Get ’em online mostly. Tried using some of the cheaper ones from Walmart, but they’re not heavy enough to hold up in the weather.”

  The skull was clearly heavy-duty plastic. Generic and no match for the found jawbone. No surprise. Serial killers didn’t leave their trophies out in the open. “Bet this looks good at night, all lit up in the dark.”

  “That’s what the folks want to see. Always surprises me that people pay me to scare them, ’specially the kids. Listen, I don’t mean to rush you, but I’ve got a big day ahead of me, and like I said, got kind of a late start. So maybe we could—”

  Jeremy snapped a few photos of the area and pointed to the skeleton. “Oh, sorry. Just one more. Quick selfie with this guy if you don’t mind. Something to send to a little girl I know. She’ll love it.”

  “Of course. Daughter?”

  Jeremy stood by the decorations and stretched his arm, turning the camera until he got the image he wanted. A couple of quick snaps, and he placed his phone back in his pocket. “No, at least not yet. Not married.”

  They walked farther into the maze. “Got plans though, huh? That redheaded FBI agent? Lucky man.”

  Jeremy glanced at the farmer.

  “Oh, sorry. Paula told me about her. Saw you two kiss last night and assumed ...”

  “Yeah.”

  They came to another skeleton, this one dressed as an old woman.

  “Want to stop here?” Mason asked.

  “No, thanks. Just show me where Lanny worked, and I’ll get out of your way.”

  “Okay then. Right up around this next corner.”

  A few dozen steps later, Jeremy stood in a small opening cut back into the corn. A few hay bales stacked on each other. Couple of pumpkins. Wooden box behind the hay with spare flashlights. A bunch of nothing.

  “This is it,” Mason said. “He’d hang out here or move up and down the paths a little. Jump out and scare folks, then slip back into position and wait for the next group.”

  “Did Officer Obion have any questions about the maze? Anything unusual?”

  “Nope. Nothing out of the ordinary. Fact is, there’s not a lot to it. A few decorations stuck in some trails surrounded by corn. Throw a bunch of dead ends in the mix, and you’ve got all you need.”

  “And no idea where the officer went when he left here?”

  Mason shook his head. “Sorry.”

  “Okay. Lead me out of here, and I’ll get out of your way. I really appreciate all your help.”

  “Glad to do it. Just hope you find your friend soon. Lanny too. This is usually a quiet community, and we’d sure like to get back to that.”

  The men exited the maze and strolled toward the house.

  “Best of luck to you,” Mason said.

  “Thanks. Hope you guys have a big turnout tonight.”

  “We will. Good weather, no moon, and date night for the high school boys. Gives their girlfriends an excuse to hold onto them.”

  Jeremy moved down the gravel driveway to his car. What am I missing? Did Troy suspect something here? Maybe ask Miller if it’s okay to look around on my own. See how he reacts. Better yet, wait an hour or so, come back, and ask his wife. More likely she’d give permission.

  He ran his hand along the side of Mason’s old pickup truck as he walked past. Dented, rusted, and dirty. The sun was up, bouncing its glory off his windshield. He squinted and shielded his eyes before tossing his jacket into the passenger seat of his car and sliding behind the wheel.

  What now? The high school would be a waste of time. The DQ, no better. Maybe go back to where they
found the Jeep. Couldn’t hurt. He reached to close his car door and froze. Amid the dull grayness of the gravel, a few specks shone brightly.

  Glass.

  He leaned down and picked up a few pieces, rolling the shards in his palm. Studying them. Hard to be sure but could be from a car window. Could be.

  He pulled the door closed and peered toward the house. Mason Miller stood there. Watching.

  Jeremy smiled and gave an unreturned half-wave. He backed his car in an arc, glanced at the special agriculture license plates on Miller’s pickup, and drove toward the road.

  A quick look in his rearview mirror told him all he needed to know.

  The man still stood there. Arms crossed. Wide stance.

  A spasm shot through Jeremy’s left leg. He winced and gripped the steering wheel tighter. Momentary pain. A bare hint of the agony he would inflict on Mason Miller if—when—the evidence of his crimes was found.

  The car bounced through a rut, and he reached over to keep his laptop from sliding onto the floor. The touchscreen flicked on, and he glanced at the image. A magnificent creature with a fluffy orange body accented with thin black stripes. Two long fat legs and two short skinny ones.

  Rebecca’s tiger.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR

  “You can’t be sure,” Paula said.

  Mason brushed back the living room curtains and stared out the front windows. “I’m as sure as I can be. I know what I saw. That FBI agent may not be positive, but he’s suspicious enough.”

  “Based on what? Some broken glass in the driveway? Good Lord, honey. That’s a stretch, don’t you think?”

  “His whole demeanor changed. I don’t know. Maybe we missed something last night.”

  She shook her head. “No, we didn’t. We followed the plan. Replaced every skull with the plastic backup. There’s nothing out there that’s incriminating.”

  “Except in the barn. He’ll be back, and maybe not alone.”

  “Fine. If he comes back, we’ll deal with the situation then. Take the next step in the plan if we have to. But worrying about it never solved anything.”

  He sank into the worn leather recliner and raised the footrest. “Not worried, Paula. We both figured it’d come to this eventually. I’m ready as I can be.”

  Her jaw jutted forward. “We could leave. Take the boys from school and just go.”

  He yawned and scratched his stomach. “Could you do that, baby?”

  She sighed. “No more than you could. I’m not leaving the farm. It’s who we are.”

  “Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. No matter what happens, this is where I want to be. Understand?”

  “I do.”

  “Fair enough then. If he comes back, you know your job?”

  “I’ll do what I’ve always done, Mason. Protect the farm and the family.”

  He stretched and leaned his recliner all the way back. “Got a big afternoon ahead. Moving the old tools to the new barn’s gonna take a couple of hours. I believe I’m going to take a nap, long as you don’t tell nobody. Don’t want word getting around that I’m lazy.”

  Paula walked across the room and kissed his forehead. “Get some rest. I’ll wake you if I need to.”

  Mason snuggled into the chair and closed his eyes. “Honey?”

  “Yes, dear?”

  “I’d like a BLT for lunch. Maybe even two of them.”

  “Extra bacon?”

  He smiled, laid his hands on his belly, and drifted into a hard sleep.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE

  Photographs covered the conference room table. Troy’s Jeep. The corn maze. Skeletons. The high school. And Mason Miller.

  Jeremy bent close to two of the pictures. “No question. They’re different. The skulls in Troy’s photos are not the ones I saw.”

  “That doesn’t make sense,” Maggie said. “Nobody would be stupid enough to put murder victims’ skulls on display. Why would you risk it?”

  “I’m not quite ready to make that jump yet, but I’m getting there. He probably doesn’t see it as a risk. Said he’s been doing the maze for years, and if no one’s questioned anything before, why worry about it now?”

  “But trophies are personal, right? Why share them?”

  “Don’t know. Remember though—the killer also took Sarah Goldman’s hands. And Barry Thornquist’s arm bones had cut marks. Could be he kept the hands as trophies. The skulls are just a bonus. His way of bragging to the world.”

  “It’s thin. Maybe we should talk to the local cops. See if they’ve got any info on Miller that might enhance the theory.”

  Jeremy scratched his cheek and tapped a finger on one of Troy’s photos. “Miller’s got no criminal record, and I don’t want word to get back to him that we’re considering him a suspect. We need more. Something that’ll get us a warrant. We just have to find it.”

  “If he’s got the Palmer kid—”

  “Then the boy’s already dead.”

  She bit her bottom lip. “Kind of harsh, don’t you think?”

  He rubbed her arm. “Sorry. But we both know the statistics. And if Miller is a serial killer, another murder wouldn’t mean much to him.”

  “I know. The way you said it, though, hit me kind of hard.”

  “I’m sorry, babe. Listen. We’ll head back in a couple of hours. Two off-duty FBI agents out looking to relax on a Friday night. Check out the maze first. See if anything suspicious turns up. Then you chat with the wife. Maybe see if you can tie Miller to some of the locations of the victims. I’ll dig around the rest of the public areas, and we’ll end the evening with a hayride.”

  She picked up one of the photos. “Look at him. The way he’s staring at you. I don’t like it.”

  “Can’t arrest a guy for looking at me. I told him I was taking a selfie to send to Rebecca. He’s got no idea I took his picture.”

  She smiled. “I’m sorry. I never thought I’d hear you say you took a selfie. It’s so ... not you.”

  “I feel like an idiot even saying it. Look at how Miller’s standing.”

  “Left hand at his side, right hand in his jacket pocket, right foot slightly back. He’s ready to go into a shooting stance. Think he’s carrying?”

  “You think he’s not?”

  “Doesn’t prove anything either way. Permit or not, he’s on his own property. And he didn’t seem at all nervous?”

  “Not a bit. Wasn’t very talkative, but so what? Said he had a lot to do but didn’t really seem to be in any huge hurry. And he didn’t try to hide anything from me as near as I could tell.”

  “To recap, you’ve got a few photos that really don’t prove anything, broken glass that the lab confirms probably came from a car window, and a license plate that’s the same as a couple of hundred other vehicles in Miller’s county alone. It’s risky going there tonight, Jeremy. Friday before Halloween? They’ll be packed.”

  “That’s what I’m counting on. Miller will be distracted. Give me time to wander around on my own. If we find anything, we back off and surveil. Call in the info and get some support before we grab him. Maybe even hold off until tomorrow morning when everyone’s gone.”

  “Can’t do that. If Miller’s the guy, he’ll know about Troy and the Palmer kid. If there’s a chance either of them are still alive, we can’t wait.”

  Jeremy scooped the photos into a pile and slid them into a folder. “We’ll make that call when the time comes. Let’s grab some dinner before we go. Barbecue sound good? My treat.”

  She crinkled her nose. “Sounds kind of heavy, doesn’t it?”

  “Tell them you want slaw on top. Trust me on this. Oh, and bring your laptop.”

  TOM THREADGILL / 301

  “For what?”

  “Thought we might Skype with a little girl I know. Help me get my head on straight before we go out to the Miller place. I mean, if it’s okay with her mom.”

  She stood and scooped up her computer. “Slaw, huh? Sounds disgusting.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN
TY-SIX

  “Guess your FBI friends aren’t coming,” Paula said.

  Mason watched another group of teenagers enter the maze. “Not today at least. Getting dark and too many people around. Too risky.”

  “Maybe they’re not coming at all.”

  They’ll be here. He wrapped his arm around her waist. “Maybe.”

  “Just checked on Lucas out front. The parking area’s full, and he’s directing people into the field beside the house. Looks like it’s going to be a record night.”

  “Where’s Andy?”

  “Got him helping out at the concession stand. Popcorn and candy bars only. He spills too many of the drinks.”

  “Uh-huh. It might be a record night, but I imagine that boy will eat up our profits in Snickers and Baby Ruths.”

  They stood in silence watching the crowd. Listening to the laughter punctuated by the occasional scream from within the corn maze. Feeling the gusty breeze as it rolled over their land.

  Mason sighed. “Wouldn’t have it any other way, Paula.”

  She sniffled and wiped her eyes. “Me neither, honey. You’re a good man. Good father and husband.”

  He pulled her closer and nuzzled his face in her hair. “Enough of that foolishness. Folks will be thinking we’ve gone soft or something.”

  “Don’t much care what they think.”

  He swatted her rear. “I know, baby. Now let’s get to work. I’m going to check on the maze. You best get Andy away from the concession stand or we’ll be hauling him to the hospital to get his stomach pumped.”

  She rolled her eyes, took a step, then froze.

  Mason followed her gaze.

  “They’re here.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN

  “How much?” Jeremy asked the teenage girl sitting behind a table at the maze’s entrance.

  “Ten dollars each,” she said.

  “Seems kind of steep.”

  Maggie swatted his arm. “You’re not going to find a cheaper date than me. Pay her.”